


Petit Chou

by JJK



Series: Life, Interrupted 'Deleted Scenes' [2]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: (her name will be explained in another fic because yes it needs explanation), Babysitting, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Time Travel, time traveler's wife au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-22
Updated: 2013-11-22
Packaged: 2018-01-02 08:36:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1054718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JJK/pseuds/JJK
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras and Grantaire and babysitting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Petit Chou

_November, 2010 (Enjolras is 35, Grantaire is 38)_

Jehan opened the door, looking rather harried and flustered. A tea towel was thrown over his shoulder, his hair was pulled back into a bun and his eyes were bleary with exhaustion. 

“Thank you so much for coming over,” he exhaled, ushering them inside. He pulled the tea towel off his shoulder and bundled it at Grantaire, who just about managed to catch it. “Courf’s caught up at work, and my mom – ” 

“We know,” Enjolras placed a calming hand on Prouvaire’s shoulder and smiled reassuringly at him. “Go. We can manage here.” 

“Thank you. I didn’t want to take her with me – hospitals are…not a good place for kids. And I don’t want – ” he trailed off and shook his head, taking a deep breath and composing himself. “Formula’s in fridge, I made up all the bottles, you just need to heat them up – changing table is upstairs. She loves this bear, so if she starts crying it’s like magic. Alright. I wrote everything up I could think that you might need to know –it’s tacked to the fridge. I will try and check my phone occasionally. And Courf should be back in a few hours.” 

“We’ll be fine, won’t we, Blake?” Grantaire cooed from the floor, where he was sittingcross-legged. He had already plucked Blake from her moses basket and was cradling her carefully in his arms. 

Jehan watched them for a moment before the tension left his face and his shoulder’s sagged slightly. 

“Yeah. I know you will. Thank you.” He knelt down and planted a kiss on Blake’s forehead, stroking her soft blonde hair gently. “I’ll see you later, mon petit chou,” adding in a conspiratorial whisper, “feel free to spit up on Enjolras as much as you like.” He kissed her again, nodded at Grantaire and stood up, slinging an overnight bag over his shoulder and leaving before he could change his mind. 

Enjolras put down the teddy bear he found himself holding and sat down on sofa, watching Grantaire gently cooing over the bundle of baby and blankets he had in his arms. 

“Don’t you dare go and Travel on me,” he laughed, trying to sound light-hearted, but betrayed by the crease in his brow. Children terrified him slightly, and the thought of being left alone with a baby already had his heart beat hammering more staccato than normal. 

Grantaire just smiled. “And miss this? Not if I can help it.” Supporting her head in the crook of his elbow, Grantaire waved a finger above Blake, which she reached up to grab with her tiny pink fists. “I’m not going anywhere,” he assured Enjolras, wishing he felt as certain as he sounded. 

Enjolras nodded, clearly relieved. 

“Do you want a drink? I think I need some coffee,” 

“Nah, I’m good.” 

Nodding Enjolras unfolded himself and disappeared through to the kitchen, clearly trying to disguise his haste. 

It always amused Grantaire with just how useless Enjolras was with children, babies especially. The man could stand in front of a crowd of hundreds and charm them with his rhetoric, hold his own in a court room, make politicians quake in their boots, but hand him a baby and their fearless leader was reduced to a terrified, uncertain mess. 

It was the one of the reasons Grantaire knew there was no chance of them ever having children, but he didn’t mind. He knew leaving being left alone with a child was far from responsible. Although Joly was working tirelessly to help him control his involuntary Travelling, and admittedly his control had somewhat improved, he could still disappear without warning. And honestly? That was quite a terrifying thought.

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr!](http://trenchcoatsandtimetravel.tumblr.com/)
> 
> =
> 
> Drop by for more short drabbles that I may eventually post on here, when I remember to.
> 
> =
> 
> 'Mon Petit Chou' is a french term of endearment (it literally means my little cabbage) and it was too cute not to use. I'm fairly certain it's still _'mon'_ , even when addressing a girl - but if I'm wrong please tell me :)


End file.
